


so inviting, i almost jump in

by mattwatson



Category: Video Blogging RPF, supermega
Genre: Angst, M/M, Song fic, Unrequited Love, lyrics included this is an OLDSCHOOL songfic baby :), taylor released a new album what choice did i have
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 06:53:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28467111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattwatson/pseuds/mattwatson
Summary: Ryan takes pride in being Matt’s best friend, the person he’s closest to. He does, really. Being utterly in love with him is the price he pays for that position. It always has been, and Ryan’s fine with it.
Relationships: Ryan Magee/Matt Watson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	so inviting, i almost jump in

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was written in 2 nights and then edited at 1am on new years day after several glasses of champagne so i do apologise if it's terrible, but i missed posting :) so happy new year girls and gays!!!!

**_i don’t like a gold rush, gold rush_ **

Ryan opens the door and his eyes are tugged immediately to the newly blonde, heavily windswept locks on Matt’s head. “Check you out, pretty boy.”

Matt rolls his eyes with a grin, passing Ryan his McDonald’s order as he steps into the doorway. “Don’t know what you mean. I’ve always had this hair, Ryan. You just never pay attention to me.”

“Fuck off with that shit. Nobody sees you more than I do.”

Matt throws a fry at him, immediately picking it up off the floor and sticking it in his mouth before Ryan can berate him again about wasting precious greasy fast food. Ryan feigns disgust and simply elbows him, trying his hardest to keep himself from staring at Matt’s new hair too much as Matt plays with it in the dingy mirror in the office hallway.

“Seriously, though, do you like it? I wasn’t sure whether or not to just let Annabel do it herself, but she convinced me I’d be less likely to regret it and hate her if I went to a salon and got it done properly.”

Ryan’s heart picks up its pace. He hates it when Matt asks him those questions, basically asks him to lie through his teeth and tell him that he looks great, dude, pretend like he’s capable of giving Matt compliments that are simply platonic. But he obliges, of course.

“Yeah. Looks better than when you got it done for Blonde Boys.”

Matt snorts, looks at him with his eyebrows raised. “It wouldn’t have taken much.”

He can tell that Matt’s pleased he approves, though, some of the sheepishness shedding from his demeanor as he takes his sweater off. Something about that spreads an embarrassing amount of warmth through Ryan, followed quickly by a surge of embarrassment at how exciting it feels to be the first person Matt’s shown his new hair to in person. As if Matt’s even made that decision consciously, like Ryan exclusively being the first person to see it even crossed his mind. They’d agreed to come to the office this afternoon, so that’s what Matt had done after his hair appointment.

He doesn’t realise he’s still standing in the hallway pretending to rummage through the paper bag for ketchup until he hears Matt yell “dude, just come empty the bag on the table,” from the kitchen. He mentally wills the temperature of the building to rise suddenly, to at least give him some form of pathetic excuse for his flushed cheeks.

* * *

_**i don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush** _

God, it’s embarrassing how giddy it makes Ryan to be around Matt. It feels akin to the feeling of making a new best friend in the elementary school playground, talking for five minutes and realising how close you’re going to be for at least all of lunch break: utterly inseparable, the second half of you all of a sudden. It had felt that way since the first day they met, awkward introductions outside a grocery store with Daniel bridging the gap between them - at least, it had on Ryan’s part. An insatiable curiosity about this fresh-faced 18-year-old who he’d probably passed at USC a million times and never noticed, a ridiculous and unfounded need to _know_ him, know why he gels his hair like that and where he buys his kitschy shirts and what he thinks about when he lays in bed unable to sleep at night.

Except, this time it lasts a bit longer than a lunch break. So far, it’s lasted 5 years, 3 months and counting.

* * *

_**i don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch** _

When Matt had become the heartthrob within the first year of launching SuperMega, Ryan couldn’t say he was especially surprised. Sure, he knew he had his own portion of fans, but he knew they were outnumbered by Matt Girls, and it wasn’t even that he was particularly jealous of the attention it garnered from fans.

Well. Not jealous _for_ that kind of attention, anyway.

Matt’s humble about it, of course, which probably helps. He laughs, embarrassed, shrugs it off with a “they’re all probably 14 anyway”. But Ryan finds it hard to believe - always has - that Matt just doesn’t see that he’s good looking, doesn’t understand that his hair always looks so soft to the touch in a way that makes Ryan’s fingers itch where they sit awkwardly on his lap.

**_what must it be like to grow up that beautiful?_ **

“C’mon, man. People think you’re gorgeous.”

They’ve been drinking wine and it always makes Ryan’s tongue dangerously slippery, a confession he’s kept under lock-and-key threatening to crawl out from underneath it at any moment. He usually tries to keep the conversation away from anything to do with Matt or his relationship with him to avoid this exact problem, but something about the way the TV’s illuminating the half of Matt’s face that Ryan can see is making it difficult tonight.

_**everybody wonders what it would be like to love you** _

“Whatever, man. People think the same about you.”

Ryan snorts. Yeah, right. “As if I get seen as anything more than your fat partner.”

It’s a joke - Ryan’s got his body issues, but he’s also become quite used to poking fun at them by now - but Matt’s face suddenly loses its ease, looks stricken. “Ryan.”

“I’m kidding, Matt.”

“Don’t say shit like that about yourself.”

“Why not? Might motivate me to lose some weight, the thought of getting my own group of fangirls.”

 _The thought of looking good enough for you,_ something deep inside of him mumbles, so quiet that only echoes of it in his head can be heard.

Matt takes the wine glass from Ryan’s hand, an odd sternness that Ryan rarely comes to anticipate when he’s with Matt. “I don’t like it when you talk like that about yourself, alright? You’re good-looking. And I’ll tell you that until you believe it.”

Ryan feels foggy all of a sudden, vision blurring. He puts it down to the drink. Maybe Matt taking the glass away was a good idea.

“Okay. Might take you a while.”

“Then I’ll tell you every day.”

It’s soppy, and Ryan knows he doesn’t mean it - they’re close, but Matt’s drunk, and their relationship isn’t the kind where they overload each other with compliments all the time anyway. But he does know that the sentiment is there.

Matt takes a swig from Ryan’s glass, grinning at the way Ryan rolls his eyes and kicks his ankle playfully. He swallows it, and Ryan focuses on the mole on Matt’s cheek to keep himself from being absorbed with the way Matt’s Adam’s apple moves.

“Besides,” Matt licks his lips when he’s done, and Ryan’s grateful for the Mole Distraction Tactic. “For every person who thinks I’m cute, there’s, like, five people who tell me to eat a burger. So it evens out.”

* * *

_**at dinner parties i call you out on your contrarian shit** _

Ryan takes pride in being Matt’s best friend, the person he’s closest to. He does, really. Being utterly in love with him is the price he pays for that position. It always has been, and Ryan’s fine with it.

He takes an odd sort of pride in indulging it while they’re out, with their friends and even when their families come to stay in LA. It’s not like he needs to _prove_ it to anyone: it’s made abundantly clear by the way Matt’s smile is at its brightest whenever Ryan’s the one cracking jokes, even if he’s at the other end of the table and can barely hear what Ryan’s saying. Sometimes he’ll be deep in conversation with someone else, chatting shit about the problem with his car’s tyres or the new type of dog food he’s trying Lego out on, and he’ll swear he can look up and catch Matt trying to listen in, drinking up Ryan’s words as if they were his lifeblood. It makes goosebumps prickle on his arms, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Yeah, we try to keep healthier food in the office, but Ryan insists on having some weird soda from Target stocked at all times.”

It’s easy bait - they’re usually more sophisticated in their public bickering than this - but Ryan takes it anyway, turning his head to ‘catch’ Matt in the act. “What the fuck are you talking about, dude? _You_ bought it the first time.”

“Yeah, to try it. I didn’t think you’d wanna keep buying it. Seriously, it tastes like ass.” There’s no malice in his words, but anyone else would be made uneasy by Matt’s shockingly good poker face. Ryan’s done this enough times to know it’s just part of the bit.

He smirks. “Tastes better than yours.”

The company around them erupts into laughter, and Ryan doesn’t stop for longer than a second to lock eyes with Matt, satisfied with the mess they’ve fabricated to entertain everyone. Ryan will take the hit, look like the buffoon in front of everyone they know; he doesn’t care, because he knows it means Matt will stumble out of the bar side-by-side with him when they get kicked out at an ungodly hour. He can already feel the weight of Matt’s slender arm thrown over his shoulders, and it’s absolutely worth it.

* * *

_**and the coastal town we wandered round had never seen a love as pure as it** _

Ryan wakes up at around 11am - an early start by his own standards - to the sound of pots and pans clattering in the next room. He stretches his legs half-heartedly, considering rolling over and hoping the ridiculously noisy dish-washing is over soon so that he can get back to sleep, but Lego is wagging his tail eagerly in the doorway, and he supposes it’s only fair of him to get up and feed the poor boy if he was also woken by the noise. Begrudgingly, he kicks his legs out of the covers and throws on a shirt hanging off of his desk chair.

It’s Matt, of course - nobody except his roommate of several years would have the nerve or even the _ability_ to make that much noise while washing dishes. Ryan supposes he should be grateful that Matt’s saved him from the dangerously overflowing pile next to the sink.

“Y’know, I would’ve done it myself.”

Matt jumps at Ryan’s voice and a glass slips out of his hand (thankfully back into the water, unsmashed). “ _Jesus_ , man. I know it’s your house but, like, fucking knock or something. Alert me next time.”

Ryan tries to roll his eyes, but his breath is caught in his throat as Matt turns around, his frame engulfed by an old shirt with the Iron Giant on the front. _Ryan’s_ old shirt, being worn by Matt with just his boxers underneath.

It’s a good fucking job that Jackson and Harrison decided not to stay over too, because Ryan’s suddenly very conscious of how much he’s staring. He thanks his lucky stars that Matt has busied himself with emptying beer cans and shoving them in the trash.

Ryan clears his throat (he’s just woken up, he’s allowed to do that, right?), sitting at the kitchen counter. “Sorry, dude. Next time I’ll scare the shit out of Lego so that he comes running in to alert you.”

Matt dries his hands on the bottom of the shirt. Ryan can’t bring himself to care. Or, for that fact, bring himself to stop picturing Matt walking around here every night, wearing his shirts, leaving them on his bedroom floor. _Their_ bedroom floor.

“What’s for breakfast?”

Ryan shrugs. “Whatever you can find.”

“Well, it’s currently a banana and half a bowl of Froot Loops.”

“Dibs on the banana.”

Matt just rolls his eyes playfully, grabbing his phone from the counter. “I’ll order us something, shall I?”

Ryan sees a window to steer the conversation selfishly. “Least you could do. After I let you sleep in my guest room. Wear my clothes.”

Ryan knows that Matt knows he’s kidding, but Matt still tugs at the hem of the shirt self-consciously, Ryan’s eyes catching on pale collarbones.

“I would’ve thought the dishes were payment enough. Plus, you threw this shirt at me last night and told me to stay instead of letting me get a cab home.”

Face flushing, Ryan looks away, thankful that Matt decides to put some distance between them by heading into the living room. _Stop fucking drinking so much that you forget coming onto Matt._

The easiest way to distract from it is to play into it, to take it so far that it becomes a joke too obscene to be real. “No, payment would’ve been a nice handy to send me off to sleep.”

Matt doesn’t miss a beat, calling back, “How do you know I didn’t?”

Ryan chuckles, but his fingernails dig into his palms, and he’s grateful for the distraction Lego bounds into the kitchen to provide, pawing at his legs eagerly under the counter.

* * *

_**i can’t dare to dream about you anymore** _

“I think I might be bi.” Matt says offhandedly, not looking up from his phone.

Ryan’s thumbs freeze where they hover over the controller, his character immediately being killed by the boss he’d just spent 20 minutes trying to beat. Matt giggles at the timing, and any bitterness that had swelled at the distraction dissipates. Laughing along with him, Ryan pauses the game.

“I--alright.” Ryan barely chokes out, thankful to be able to hide his sudden jitteriness behind the lightened atmosphere. “How did you...I mean, when…when did you?”

“Dunno, man. I’ve kinda thought about it before but just brushed it off. But I redownloaded Tinder the other night, and something in me just, like...compelled me to check the option that shows you everyone. And the more I would like, talk to guys as well as girls, the more I realised that it felt okay. Felt good, actually.”

_**i don’t like that falling feels like flying till the bone crush** _

Matt being nonchalant about casually coming out to Ryan is actually kind of a blessing; if Matt had been eagerly watching Ryan for his reaction, he’d absolutely see Ryan’s head going a mile a minute to try and process all the information it had just been given.

His own realisation - which had occurred as a byproduct of falling for Matt rather than a journey of self-discovery - was quiet and uneventful. He was in love with Matt, sure, but he had continued to have girlfriends he was attracted to, continued to exclusively watch straight porn unless he could squint and pretend that one of two men on-screen was Matt writhing around in the sheets. He didn’t find men _un_ attractive necessarily, but Matt was the exception to the rule rather than the new normal.

Tinder, though. It settles uncomfortably in Ryan’s gut that Matt had suddenly become attainable, rather than an unrequited gay fantasy, and he had _still_ not even so much as glanced at Ryan differently.

_He’d rather fuck a stranger._

It really shouldn’t come as a surprise, not after all this time. Not after years of knowing that Matt could have whoever he wanted. Not after years of knowing that Matt took every touch that Ryan spent hours debating the meaning of for granted, every hug where he would squeeze Ryan’s ribs because that’s _just what he does_ , every time Matt gave and gave to Ryan because Matt is a good friend and he loves him. _Platonically_. All those instances, Ryan had twisted perversely to delude himself into the possibility of being Matt’s person. He feels them leave his body with every exhale.

**_and then it fades into the grey of my day-old tea_ **   
_**cause it will never be** _

Matt continues to play on his phone. Ryan presses play on the game, wordlessly, and continues to pretend. Life will carry on as normal.

After all, it’s the price Ryan pays. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> title/lyrics from gold rush by taylor swift
> 
> i promise i did intend to write more folklore inspired fics but like...life happened, including getting covid so. also like taylor didn't really give me much TIME before throwing evermore at us out of the blue
> 
> support me on ko-fi if you would like @ ko-fi.com/ao3matt!! i am a broke student lol


End file.
